Conversations
by PhoenixFireHope
Summary: Harry/Sirius bonding. Missing moments from OotP. Harry's dreams, fears, and his past are examined. Will be regularly updated.
1. Rain

**A/N This is the start of a series of conversations which took place between Harry and Sirius in Order of the Phoenix. I really feel that their relationship was incredibly interesting, and needs exploring.**

**Disclaimer: I'm just exploring JK Rowling's work, none of it belongs to me. **

The rain was pouring down outside Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Droplets traced their way down the murky windows, failing to wash away the years of grime which had accumulated in the long years of absence. A bespectacled boy, thin, messy haired and pale, sat in the gloomy lamplight of Grimmauld Place's drawing room. A fire blazed in the hearth, but did little to alleviate the gloomy mood which had settled over him. He frowned as he considered a copy of the Daily Prophet. Despite picking it up to distract him from unwelcome dreams, it had done nothing to improve his mood. Having finished reading an article about Malcolm Midge, who claimed to have created a broom which could bore through the earth, his eyes settled upon the closing phrase: '_It is evident to this reporter that this is a tale worthy of Harry Potter. Indeed, St Mungo's must prepare themselves for an increase in deluded attention seekers encouraged by scars newly hewn on their foreheads from ill advised broomstick endeavours.'_

Harry threw the paper into the fire in a fit of rage. As he watched the paper curl and crumble into dust and ash, he felt a vindictive sense of pleasure mixed with a growing sense of irritation. However, before his mind could once again rotate the dark thoughts which had been plaguing him since the third task, he heard an amused cough.

He jumped at the noise in the silence that only early morning brought, reaching for his wand. However, at the sight of his godfather he relaxed.

"Oh- 'lo Sirius" said Harry, smiling. He glanced at the fire with a slightly worried expression, the remnants of the Daily Prophet still visible as a moving picture of Fudge danced and burned in the bright flames.

"Hello Harry," replied Sirius, smiling at his godson. He settled himself next to Harry on the sofa. "I see that you've discovered the delights of fire."

Harry smiled embarrassedly. "The Daily Prophet were talking rubbish."

"When don't they?" asked Sirius. Then, he fixed Harry with a concerned gaze. "Just ignore them. They'll know soon enough."

Harry nodded, not feeling particularly reassured, but somehow less alone than he had felt a few moments ago. Sirius would understand how Harry had been feeling. With a rush of guilt, Harry realised that a few barbed comments in the Daily Prophet were nothing compared to the injustices that Sirius had suffered. Still branded a murderer, still forced to stay inside a place he hated to avoid further wrong imprisonment, still coping with the loss of his best friend. Something of this must have shown on his face, as Sirius put a hand on his shoulder.

"Anything the matter?" he asked lightly.

A lump appeared in his throat. He cleared his throat to clear the unwelcome sensation. The feeling of having someone to confide in, the feeling of having a family, even, was so alien to Harry. It was at times like this, when he realised that Sirius cared- really cared- about him, that the sensation hit him.

Sirius was still looking at him. Harry looked away, feeling uncomfortable under such close scrutiny.

"I just feel a bit stupid, getting bothered by a few comments," he said finally. "And I can't do anything about it anyway. It's just-"

He broke off.

"You didn't ask for any of this?" finished Sirius for him. "You don't understand why you're not believed?"

Harry nodded mutely.

"I felt the same- and still do, to some extent. Yet what you need to understand, Harry, is that you hold the truth within yourself. It is just a matter of waiting, and one day both of us will be free from the shackles of lies."

A rush of calm seemed to fill his very bones, like the feel of phoenix tears on a wound. Sirius understood, so much more than anyone else could. Nobody else had lived through the same process of vilification that Harry had been put under. Nobody else had been this close to his parents, except Lupin, perhaps. Nobody else bore the same feelings of guilt which burdened Harry. With this feeling, he felt loosened, somehow. As such, he raised his eyes to Sirius.

"It's just- hard being told that I'm an attention seeking prat when I never wanted to be known at all. I'm famous for something that I can't even remember, and everything that's happened since hasn't been- I dunno- purposeful. Things just happen to me. I'm not Lockhart."

At this, Sirius snorted. "Oh, that idiot. He was in Ravenclaw but didn't have two brain cells to rub together if you ask me. How did you come across him?"

Harry grinned. "DADA Professor in 2nd year."

At Sirius' look of horror, he laughed.

"I know, he was terrible. I had a detention with him once and he made me help him with his _fan mail_," Harry spat out with a look of disgust.

Sirius gazed at him open mouthed, yet with a slight shadow of pride- whether at Harry's ability to procure a detention, or Harry's ability to withstand it, Harry didn't know.

"He's actually quite famous," added Harry. "He wrote loads of books about his fights with dark creatures. Thing is, he never actually did them himself. He was a bit of an expert at memory charms, so went around taking the credit for everyone else. Apparently his only qualification was being winner of 'Witch Weekly's most Charming Smile Award' five years running. Anyway, he tried to wipe Ron's memory but the spell backfired. I dunno where he is now. Probably in some museum dedicated to himself or something."

Sirius laughed. "Why did the idiot try to wipe Ron's memory?"

Harry grimaced. "It's a long story."


	2. Ice

**Disclaimer: It is not I that created Harry Potter, everyone. I'm just borrowing him. **

**I just noticed a few errors in this chapter where I've strayed from canon, so this is the edited version. Sorry! **

"-so, we found the Chamber of Secrets and the staff got rid of him. A good deal all round, I'd say."

Sirius gaped at him. "Are all your years at Hogwarts like this?" he managed to gasp out.

Harry considered. "Well, first year me, Ron and Hermione rescued the Philosopher's stone from Voldemort sticking out of Professor Quirrel, my first DADA teachers head. You know about third year, obviously. And fourth year… well."

He fell silent, and stared into the fire, which had died down, the last remnants of paper swirling in the grate.

Sirius considered him for a moment.

"What are you doing up so early, anyway?" asked Sirius, an inscrutable expression on his face. "I'd have thought that you'd be in bed until noon at least. That's what Ron and the twins seem to do, anyway, unless Mrs Weasley has anything to do with it."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Well, you know," he mumbled "I couldn't sleep. Why are you up, anyway?"

"Nice try," said Sirius, smirking. "I think we need to work on your evasion skills. But, if you must know, I was awake early too, then thought I heard someone moving about downstairs. I wanted to check to see that Kreacher hasn't been trying to steal more Black family heirlooms."

"You seem to hate them as much as I hate the Dursleys," observed Harry.

"Well," said Sirius, his expression darkening. "They were never really family to me. I hated their belief in their own superiority since they were purebloods, and they hated my opposing beliefs. When I was sorted into Gryffindor, that did it for them. Slytherins, most of them, then along I come and join the rival house. My father tried to lock me away when I got back from Hogwarts. Fortunately Andromeda persuaded him otherwise. My mother just screamed at me all the time."

He sighed. "That's why I loved your dad's. They were always so welcoming- a proper family, not like my prejudiced lot."

"That's what I felt when I went to the Burrow for the first time," murmured Harry, smiling at the memory.

Sirius examined him carefully. "What are the Dursley's like?" he asked. "Remus said that you didn't sound too keen to go back there when you left."

Frowning, Harry felt his fists clench. "They just- don't like me very much." He replied lamely, willing this line of questioning to disappear.

Sirius glanced down at Harry's clenched fists. "It seems like more than that to me."

"Well, maybe I don't want to talk about it," retorted Harry angrily.

Sirius frowned. "It seems like it's worth talking about."

Harry felt his face heat up. In a fit of anger, he threw himself up from the sofa.

"Fine!" he snapped, "They hate me. They hate magic. They think the sun shines out of Dudley's arse when all the fat lump does is bully small children and eat. He used me as his personal punch bag until they became terrified of my magic. In second year, they put bars on my window and fed me through a cat flap in the door after Dobby smashed a pudding over someone's head. I slept in the cupboard under the stairs until I got my Hogwarts letter, and I got locked in there for doing accidental magic. When I asked how my parents died, they said that it was in a car crash, then forbade me to ask questions. The only clothes they give me are Dudley's cast offs, and they make it perfectly clear that anything they give me, I should be grateful for because I am just a freak, a boy with no parents who got shoved into their perfect family and messed everything up."

Sirius' face showed a multitude of emotions competing for dominance. Shock, horror, anger, guilt, pain and grief all flickered across it. Harry, breathing deeply, sat back down, already feeling embarrassed at his outburst.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Sirius' mouth worked up and down for a few seconds. "Harry, you have _nothing _to be sorry about, you hear me? Nothing at all. Those… _bastards_ should be locked up. I'll _kill_ them!"

Harry shook his head vehemently, but Sirius carried on.

"Look, did they ever- hit you?" he asked, suddenly cautious.

Harry started to shake his head again, but Sirius interrupted.

"James found out in third year," he murmured, staring into the fire. "My parents didn't take kindly to me once they realised that there was no chance of me converting to their bigotry. So, they tried to force me into it. They knew curses that wouldn't leave marks."

Harry gaped at him in horror.

"When James found out, he hit the roof. He ranted on about cursing them until they were all slugs, or trying out some new pranking material which covered you in boils. Then he calmed down slightly and insisted that we go to Dumbledore, McGonagall, anyone. But I wouldn't let him. I was ashamed."

He looked at Harry with a fierce expression on his face.

"So, if you tell anyone, you can tell me. I know what it's like. I know that the emotional abuse was sometimes worse than the physical, too. So, please- I need to know. I need to be a proper godfather, and try to make up for all the years that I've lost.

Harry stared into the fire for several seconds, then took a deep breath.

"Not…. Often," he began, "But if anything was to do with magic, they tended to react badly. I mean, this summer Uncle Vernon almost strangled me for getting my wand out when I heard Mundungus disapparate. Aunt Petunia tended to swing things at me if I upset Dudley, or asked too many questions. Mostly though, they just locked me up with no food."

Sirius closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose. However, any attempts at remaining calm failed in the wake of his surge of anger, leaving him in a state of icy cold, as if a ghost had drifted through him.

"I'll kill them," he said quietly. "Dumbledore can't force me to stay locked up. I'll kill them all." Harry recoiled from the cold expression on Sirius' face, reminding him of Dumbledore at his most angry.

"No, Sirius, you can't!" exclaimed Harry. "They're not worth it. They're not worth getting locked up for. Look, I just… Can I move in with you?" he threw out desperately.

This sudden request hit Sirius like a charging hippogriff, throwing him off course and converting his anger into a fierce need to protect Harry. It emanated from him like a Patronus, as Harry gazed up at him with a terrible expression of hope.

He gazed silently at Harry for a few moments, wishing with all of his heart that he could just say 'Yes'.

"Of course, I want you to move in with me," he said cautiously, his mind working through the possibilities, "I asked you two years ago, and when you said yes it was one of the happiest moments of my life." His two priorities were tearing him apart- keeping Harry safe, and making sure that Harry was happy. He immediately failed at the last count, as Harry's face fell.

"But?"

"But… there are reasons that you stay with the Dursleys. Your safety is important. I have to keep you safe." Sirius ran a hand through his hair anxiously. "Look, I'll go and shout at Dumbledore or something. I'll do all I can, I promise. Next year, you don't have to go back there for long. Just a few days, then you can come and live with me. How does that sound?"

Harry suddenly looked very vulnerable, and Sirius was struck by how alone Harry truly was. No parents, his family evidently treated him like shit, and he had a huge weight upon his shoulders. But, suddenly, Harry's head lifted and he smiled- a true smile, which was full of trust and hope which made Sirius' heart crack. Sirius clapped Harry on the back, and then once more fixed him with a serious gaze.

"So, why are you up this early?" he asked once more.

**A/N Thanks to everyone that's reading this. I plan to continue it and also start a set of 3 fanfics, including Conversations, Dreams and Reactions which will expand to include different characters in the Harry Potter universe. Reviews would be really helpful as I'm really struggling with the balance of thought and dialogue, and switching character POVs is proving challenging, so constructive criticism/advice/motivation would be really useful to help me continue this story to the highest standard. Thank you!**


	3. Dawn

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series and related material. Sigh. **

Harry stared at Sirius. He knew that there was no way of evading the truth now- Sirius was too adept a prankster to not realise when he was being lied to.

He sighed. "Just a nightmare," he said with forced casualness, trying to brush off the issue.

"A nightmare," mused Sirius. "I know a thing or two about those, I can tell you."

He smiled at Harry, who was carefully avoiding his eyes.

"You asked me earlier why I was awake so early," continued Sirius, "I may not have been entirely honest."

Harry's head shot up, a look of surprise upon his face.

"You see- I'm no stranger to nightmares myself," sighed Sirius ruefully, "Especially since Azkaban. A living nightmare, you might say."

Harry nodded in understanding. "My boggart's a Dementor," he suddenly admitted. "Professor Lupin- I mean Remus- used one to teach me the Patronus charm."

"Oh yes," said Sirius, smiling slightly "He told me something about that. Something along the lines of 'outstanding ability for his age'."

Harry blushed. "Well, he helped me a lot. I couldn't have done it on my own. It's just I-" He took a deep breath. "I used to hear my parents-you know- being murdered by Voldemort- whenever they came near me."

Sirius nodded silently, an unreadable expression on his face. However, he put his hand on Harry's shoulder in solidarity.

"But now-"

Harry broke off.

"You have a worse memory?" filled in Sirius.

"Yes," said Harry, relieved. "The graveyard. I almost- when I was fighting the Dementors this summer, I nearly couldn't cast the Patronus charm."

"Harry," said Sirius gently, "You've been through a terrible ordeal. Few have suffered as you have, especially at your age. The Patronus is a very difficult charm, and to be confronted by such memories so soon after the event would cause anyone to struggle- even Dumbledore himself."

"But," Harry interjected with an air of desperation, "It's not that- I managed eventually. I just feel like it shouldn't be my worst memory. It's like my parents are less important."

"No!" burst out Sirius. "That's not true. The ordeal that you went through was horrible, and something that you shouldn't have gone through. You saw a friend die. You confronted Voldemort, risen again. The fact that you even survived-"

Sirius' flow of words seemed to stop as he relived his personal horror on the day of the third task. However, Harry seemed to immediately shrug off any threat to himself.

"But-"

"There are no buts." Sirius said firmly, coming back to himself. "You could barely comprehend your parent's deaths, you were so young when it happened. But this pain is new and fresh and raw, like an unhealed wound. For the moment, at least, it will be your worst memory because the pain hasn't been dulled by future happiness, or sadness. The pain of a memory does not ascertain its value- it's the place that a memory holds in your heart. Your parents wouldn't want their deaths to be your sole link to them. Your heart, Harry, is where they truly lie, not in your memories of their deaths."

Harry studied his shoes. Despite his unwillingness to unload his emotions, somehow talking to Sirius opened him up. He could tell Sirius anything.

"Harry?" said Sirius tentatively.

With some effort, Harry raised his head and looked into Sirius' eyes.

"Lily and James… they loved you more than anything in the world. You were their world, and although they didn't want to leave you, their dying to save you is a mark of their love for you. Remember, Harry. Whenever you feel alone, you always have their love. Every step, every word, every feeling within yourself is part of them because they gave you life, and with it, their love. Their love fills you, and love cannot die. It's within you, and around you. Every day, I see them in you. Although they are dead, they live on- in you."

Harry felt his eyes burning. It was one thing to hear Dumbledore speak of love, but when Sirius spoke it was as a friend, a brother, a father. Sirius knew what it was like to lose those that you loved. Blinking, he made to reply.

"I know," Harry whispered. "It's just hard. I mean, the first time I ever remembered their voices was when I was near a Dementor. I just wish that I could have had a few more years, so that I could remember them properly."

Harry willed back tears which were threatening to spill from his eyes. He couldn't- wouldn't- cry in front of Sirius. Taking deep breaths, he gazed back into the fire which was replenishing itself with logs whenever it died down too low. He watched as one soared into the fire and settled in the flames, embers spraying out like fireworks.

Then, he felt an arm fall around his shoulder, and pull him close. He turned his face into Sirius' side. It was odd. Mrs Weasley's hug had been warm and full, like a mother. Yet Sirius was equally comforting, like a brother and father rolled into one. A tear rolled down his face and he sniffed, feeling Sirius clutch him tighter.

"I feel like that every day," said Sirius thickly, his voice heavy with emotion. "There's never enough time to be with those you love. But one day, you will see them again. I will too. It's just a matter of living, and knowing that they will never leave here."

He pointed to Harry's chest.

The house was silent, other than the crackling of the fire. Harry imagined the life of this house- every wall, every floorboard, every tapestry, house elf head, portrait, and umbrella stand creaking with disapproval, expelling hatred at every turn. Yet, he thought- here, in this room, there was warmth, and love, and hope enough to banish it all. In that single moment, he could imagine a life of peace. In this enchanted world, there was no Voldemort, no Dementors, no unforgivable curses. This world knew only friends, and laughter, and the glorious feeling of love which knew no parameters. So, slowly, they began to drift off to sleep in the light of early morning. Dawn was breaking, and the clouds of night had shifted. Harry's last sleepy thought was that for those few hours, there would be no nightmares. Perhaps then he would be able to face the harsh reality of sunlight. Until then, he would sleep, and live in this world for a little longer. Just as his eyes drifted closed, he heard Sirius whisper into the dawn light.

"I love you too, Harry. Very much."

With these words echoing in his mind, Harry allowed sleep to take him, a smile etched upon his face.

**A/N I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! More on the way, but I'm on holiday for 5 days tomorrow, so won't be able to upload any more. There'll be two chapters today to make up for it though. **


	4. Dreams

**A/N- I know that Sirius and Harry didn't properly get to the bottom of his dream so I'll try and cover that in this chapter. Please review!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. *cries***

Although Harry knew that Sirius had not quizzed him again about the reason for his early start several days ago, he felt that Sirius knew. He had revisited the graveyard that night in his dreams- and the night before that, and the night before that. Every night, in fact. Ron could sleep through a herd of hippogriffs- in fact, judging by his snoring, he liked to prove the fact every night by imitating them. Yet Harry awoke frequently, gasping for breath, the shadow of words upon his lips- No; Mum; Dad; _Cedric. _

Nonetheless, a busy day of cleaning took his mind off things. That was, until, Sirius asked him to help feed Buckbeak.

"So then, Harry," said Sirius, as they began to feed Buckbeak from the bucket of rats that Sirius had procured, "Sleep well?"

Harry avoided his gaze. "Alright, I s'pose."

"Just alright?" asked Sirius, smiling in infuriating understanding.

"Well, y'know," muttered Harry. "Usual nightmares."

Sirius leaned back against the wall, as Harry seemed absorbed by the sight of Buckbeak enthusiastically devouring a rat.

"I still dream about them," he said suddenly, his voice still a little unsteady. "All the time. Sometimes they're nightmares, about their deaths, or they blame me for killing them."

Harry made to interrupt, a dozen protestations in his head, but Sirius ploughed on.

"But other dreams are worse."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion._ What could be worse than dreams which targeted your innermost fears and insecurities? What could be worse than reliving the worst moments of your life when you are powerless to control the outcome? What could be worse than feeling as though you are drowning in pain?_

"I know that it seems strange," continued Sirius, catching Harry's expression. "But the worst dreams can be the happiest. I dream that they are still alive, that James and Lily will just walk around the corner. But then I wake up, and it's the worst feeling in the world. Like I've lost them- all over again."

Sirius' voice quietened to a whisper, and he fell silent.

Harry took a deep breath. Now, he felt, was the time.

"I have dreams too," murmured Harry, "I always have, really. But lately, they've been worse. I just can't get the- graveyard- out of my head."

Sirius looked at Harry, wordlessly willing him to continue.

"It's alright when I'm busy, during the day, But at night, I can't force it out of my head, and-."

"Harry," broke in Sirius, "I know it's hard. But you're still processing everything that happened. It's natural that it will be difficult to process."

"I know," grumbled Harry, "It's just- I want to forget it all. The whole damned lot of it."

He sighed, fiddling with a hole in his sleeve. Sirius looked at him for a minute.

"You won't forget," sighed Sirius, "You never will. But time will dull the pain to a low ache, a memory of what evil brings. Never forget. Moving on is key, Harry."

Harry nodded. What Sirius said made sense, but it didn't mean he had to like it.

"Now, how about we go and find Molly? No doubt she's got something that needs cleaning."

Harry laughed, wondering what she had everyone doing now. _Probably found another Doxy infestation_, he thought ruefully, as they heard shrieks from downstairs. It was a wonder that the portraits weren't screaming with all the racket that was going on down there.

"Ok."

Sirius kicked a nearby table as they made their way out into the corridor.

"Bloody house," he moaned, as they began to climb down the stairs, "I always hated the place."

Harry grimaced in sympathy.

"At least you've got the order," said Harry bracingly, "I don't suppose your mum would be too happy about that."

Sirius grinned.

"No, somehow I don't think she would. Why do you think I was so eager to let the Order meet here?"

**A/N Thanks to everyone who's reading. I really struggled with this chapter, so any pointers would be helpful. Thanks!**


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